


i don't want to be here (yet i am)

by Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: kidnap and ransom situation, polyspace fankids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell/pseuds/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell
Summary: Nebula Goodspeed gets kidnapped.
Relationships: Ash Graven/Little Cato, Quinn Airgone/Avocato/Gary Goodspeed
Kudos: 8





	i don't want to be here (yet i am)

From the time that she was very small she could remember it being a point of contention. 

Her dad was insistent, almost frantically so, that she learn enough that she could protect herself if need be. And her mom and other dad couldn’t blame him- her older brother had had so much happen to him just as a child. Even _Nebula_ couldn’t really blame him. 

That didn’t stop her from absolutely _despising_ training, and putting all of her tiny self into resisting it.

When her dad lowered the blaster into her arms, she pretended that her wrists weren’t strong enough to hold it. When he tried to run her through self defense drills, she would whine that she was _tired_ and _hungry_ and she wanted _to cuddle, daddy, not fight._

She looks back on those memories sometimes, when she’s alone after a show. Remembering the fond exasperation on her fathers face as she nuzzled into his shoulder, patting his whiskers, helps ease the homesickness sometimes. Other times it ends with her rolling over so she can cry into her pillow. 

Despite how much she tried to rebel, though, Nebula was every bit as capable as her little sibling Americato, who had thrown theirself into the family business with gusto and fierce joy. She was a crack shot with a blaster, and could throw knives accurately, and she knew all the easiest ways to defend herself. 

She didn’t mind that now that she’s grown and the resentment has faded. She knows enough to defend herself, but she doesn’t _need_ to (so she thinks) and so she doesn’t practice. Nor does she keep any weapons around, save for a little canister of pepper spray in her back pocket.

When she’s in her dressing room applying lipstick an hour before an autograph event, and masked gunmen break down her door, she regrets that. 

She looks around for a weapon, frantically, and decides that the heavy curling iron will have to do. In the roughly minute and thirty seconds it takes for the kidnappers to get her in a chokehold, she’s knocked two out and hit one hard enough she’s seeing blood seep through the ski mask. 

The one not holding her hits her in the head, _hard,_ with the butt of the blaster, and everything goes black. 

* * *

It’s Purrding’s job to watch the screens. Dad and Grumpy man the weapons, Grandpa and Grandma pilot their course, and he and Americato keep lookout. Mom flits in and out, ready to attack or defend at a moment’s notice. 

He tries to keep his eyes on their course. But sometimes, when there’s nothing hazardous, and they’re all resting, they use the large monitors as a TV screen instead. Like now. 

Even if they’re in space, it’s technically late at night. He’s not supposed to be awake. But he couldn’t _sleep._ So here he is, one of the monitors scanning for threats and another one playing some late night news station as he tries to lull himself to rest. 

They’re at a soft monotone, one he can still hear easily as he lies there with his eyes shut. 

He’s almost asleep when those weird news-trumpets play. 

“ _Breaking News: Interstellar Pop Sensation…”_

He almost tunes out immediately. He doesn’t care about celebrity scandals. But then the word _interstellar_ processes and he shoots to his feet, eyes glued to the screen because there’s only one _interstellar pop sensation_ he cares about. 

“Shit.” He breathes, as sure enough, his aunt appears on screen. “AVA, did you get that?”

“Recording.” Answers the AI. “What do you want me to do, Purrding?”

“Save the broadcast,” He says immediately, and then worries his lip. “Get everyone up.”

All of the lights flicker, turning bright, and he can hear AVA speaking distantly in various rooms. Purrding tries not to lose his shit while he waits for them. He doesn’t have to wait long, thankfully, before his Mom is up and coming to see what the problem is. His Dad is shortly behind, and he pretty much throws himself at both of them to hug them. 

Next is Grandma and Grandpa,half awake and groggy. Then Americato slides into the room, and Grumpy is there, a blaster in hand. 

When they’re all there, Purrding looks back at the monitors.

“AVA, replay.”

“ _Breaking News: Interstellar Pop Sensation Nebula Goodspeed was discovered to have been kidnapped earlier tonight from the Darga Space Port, where she was supposed to do an autograph signing. Findings show that her security guards were incapacitated beforehand, and a clip of footage reveals her trying to defend herself.”_

They play the footage after that, and it’s slightly grainy, but it still gives a clear enough picture. 

Aunt Nebula, sitting in front of a vanity, doing her makeup. The door kicks inward and she twists, surprise on her face when _four_ people armed with blasters flood in. 

To the average person, his aunt probably looks scared out of her mind. And she does, he knows that, but he can see all the little microexpressions underneath, things she has in common with the family. 

The way her eyes move back and forth, sizing up the criminals, and then to her vanity, looking for a useable weapon. 

He watches as his Aunt picks up a curling iron like its a nightstick, watches as she dodges shots and trades blows. 

Watches the butt of the blaster gun _crack_ down on her face, sees her slump as the skin splits open.

The person choking her out scoops her up like a sack of potatoes. A few drops of blood spill onto the carpet. 

For a few moments, all is silent. 

Grumpy is the first to speak, his voice trembling slightly.

" _Fuck_."

* * *

Nebula wakes up to pain, both from the head wound and an oncoming headache. 

For a moment she tries to stand, and then falls on her ass when the dizziness hits. She puts her head down on her arms and takes a few deep breaths to try and get it to fade, and grimaces when she smears blood over her forearm. 

“Ah, good. You’re awake.”

At this, her head darts up, trying to make out features. 

_Human._ The only one that was unmasked was human, and he _definitely_ had a broken nose, thanks to her. She couldn’t help but feel ridiculously smug at that. 

He thrusts something into her hands, and after flipping it over Nebula sees its a newspaper. With today’s date on it. A bot, much like the ones she used to use to tape her vlogs zooms forward and Nebula scoffs, realizing what’s happening. 

“You realize you couldn’t possibly be any more corny, right? I mean, this is a gimmick from literal _decades_ ago.” She says, rolling her eyes. One of the people hit her upside the head, and the wound starts bleeding all over again. She grimaces. 

Nebula tries to tell herself she’s not afraid. Her parents are _Gary Goodspeed, Quinn Ergon, and Avocato,_ the reformed freaking _Master of Death._ She’s _not_ afraid. She’s going to bust her way out of here and call her agent, then she’s going to go on a very long vacation and have her Dad train her more on the self defense moves she hated so much as a kid. 

She reaches out to pick up the newspaper again, noting the way her hands are shaking.

…. Maybe she _is_ afraid. 

They tell her what to say and the camera starts rolling again, and she tries her hardest to keep the fear out of her voice, though she can’t hide the tremble in her lip.

“As you can tell, I’m still alive!” She says, and then launches into their specifics. The ransom ( three hundred sixty million, her net worth). The time limit (five days.)

As she talks, she can feel her heart sinking. Sure, she’s worth a lot. But is the company she’s signed on with going to think like that? Not to mention where she’s at right now- if they’re still on the Darga space port, she’s not sure they’ll be able to get the money in time. Darga’s economy is in _shambles._

So, Nebula has three options, the way she sees it. She can sit pretty and hope the record label coughs up the money instead of writing her off. She can hope her family sees the news reports and comes to find her. Or, option C, she can bust her way out of here on her own. 

She doesn’t trust the company, because she _knows_ they’re all about profit. She can’t guarantee her family will see any news about her- they get pretty deep space sometimes, and don’t receive transmissions for months. 

Option C it is.

* * *

Option C _sucks._ It fails _miserably._

… Well, she kills a man, so not _miserably,_ but she doesn’t get free. 

For one, she’s in a building that feels like a fucking _maze._ She doesn’t know how _anyone_ could find their way out of here. It takes two days.

But she wrangles her wrists free from where they’re tied behind her back and unties her ankles, and then she’s up and _sprinting._

She makes it down three hallways before she finds a weapon (a jagged, rusty knife). She makes it around a corner before she hears them shouting, footsteps pounding to follow her. 

She’s in the middle of the fifth hallway, the door around the corner casting _outside light_ before she stabs one of the men still wearing their mask in the neck, shoving his body away from her and trying not to gag as the blood spills onto her hands. 

She doesn’t get the opportunity to grab his blaster or go any farther, because she can feel someone else’s blaster pressed to the back of her skull and she has to freeze. 

The unmasked man, who’s been doing most of the talking, grabs her arm and drags her back down the hallway, while she shrieks and spits every curse in every language she knows at him. 

When they get back to the cell, he _slams_ her against the wall, her head cracking off of the hard surface as she tries not to sob. 

The little hovering camera flies down when he motions it forwards, and the recording light flickers on. 

* * *

They’ve been on Darga for a day and a half when it happens. 

They can’t find _anyone_ who works near Nebula, because they’re all in meetings, and Quinn swears if they come to the conclusion not to hand over the ransom she can and will kill her daughter’s manager. 

In lieu of the shitty, crowded hotel rooms they’re all sitting on their ship. Since it’s grounded, they’re using all of their monitors, each one focused on a different station, trying to find any news about Nebula that they can. 

So when her _other_ baby makes some odd noise between a yelp and a hiss, sitting upright to look at the tv screens, that’s right where Quinn looks too. 

And she understands the reason for Americato’s yelp/hiss, because right there on screen is her _daughter._ Her baby. She can still remember when Nebula was tiny- the little auburn pigtails, the way she danced on Gary’s feet while he taught her to swing dance. 

She looks _terrified._

“ _Someone_ ,” says the masked man in front of the camera, “thought she would take matters into her _own_ hands. You all made her wait, and you _know_ divas hate waiting.”

He laughs.

Her husbands each reach out and take one of her hands, and it’s only then that Quinn realizes she’s shaking from how pissed off she is. 

“She _thought_ she could get out of here on her own, and she almost did!” The man continues, mockingly, and Quinn’s blood is boiling. “She killed one of my guys doing it!”

“That’s my baby,” Avocato murmurs at her side, and Quinn relaxes, knowing that some of the blood on her daughter isn’t hers. 

“But, we’re waiting on our money, so we’re going to have to teach her a little lesson to keep her here.”

He turns away from the camera, and picks up a heavy object- a pipe, Quinn thinks- and she can’t do anything but watch the fear on her daughter’s face grow. 

The pipe goes down, and the _crunch_ it makes as her daughters leg breaks is painful enough, but Quinn thinks the scream her daughter gives is going to haunt her for the rest of her life. 

The man turns back to the camera and holds up three fingers. The recording ends. 

For a long moment, there’s complete silence. It feels tenuous, like if anyone speaks, they’re going to collectively lose their shit. 

Mooncake is the one that breaks the silence, thankfully enough. 

“ _Chookity-pok!”_

“What do you mean you recognize that building?” Gary asks, spinning around, and accidentally spinning Quinn around partially in the process. 

“ _Chookity!”_

“Illegal… robot fight?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “HUE? Any idea what he’s talking about?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Says HUE. “ I can’t believe I didn’t remember it before.”

* * *

Her leg is on _fire._

She screamed clear until she screamed herself raw. When she’s screamed to the point where she has no voice left, she falls silent, cradling her leg and trying to ignore the blood staining her hands. 

One of them laughs.

It’s been hours at this point since they broke her leg. She’s still dizzy from the blows to the head- she thinks she has a concussion- and combined with the pain of the break, she’s on the verge of puking. 

Though it would be nothing but water at this point. 

There’s a distant _thud,_ and one of the men looks up and then goes to see what it is. After a few minutes, she can hear faint blaster fire, and then the quick patter of footsteps across the floor. 

Nebula sits up quickly, almost frantically. 

“ _Hello?”_ She calls, her voice breaking on a sob. “I’m down here! Help m-”

One of the remaining two covers her mouth. She tries to bite him.

She can hear the footsteps getting closer, closer, and then-

Then the cieling falls open, and a familiar little face pops out, blaster gun at the ready as he takes out the person manning the doors. 

The sight of her nephew rips a sob from Nebula, and he drops to the floor just in time to avoid the shot from the one holding her. 

The door flies open and _there’s her family,_ her dad kicking the body that Purrding took out out of the way. 

The person holding her presses the blaster gun to her temple, and she forces herself to hold perfectly still. Her family freezes too, although they all have blasters trained on the man who broke her leg. 

“Put your guns down, or else she dies.” 

“And then you die immediately after.” Her mother says flatly. “Or _you_ put _your_ gun down and _maybe_ you get to live. 

Nebula can feel his fingers twitching as he takes stock of the situation. Two Ventraxians, two humans, a Serepentian and two hybrids. Plus Mooncake. 

There is _no way_ he’s getting out of here.

“Which way do you want to play it?” Asks her father. “You wanna live?”

Nebula can feel the man’s chest heaving as he breathes, and she wonders what’s running through his mind. 

The blaster gun lowers to her waist. For a moment she thinks it will lower more, all the way to the floor. 

Instead, he _shoves_ her forward as hard as he can, the blaster raising again, and she yelps at the pain that fires through her leg, _shrieking_ as his blast hits her, although miraculously not full-on. 

He turns on his heel to run, and he doesn’t even make it five steps before he falls, multiple shots taking him out. 

Nebula is _sobbing,_ on the verge of either throwing up or fainting, and then there is a strong pair of arms is scooping her up, warm fur against her cheek as she closes her eyes. 

“I got you, baby.” Says her father, and she sobs, wrapping a good arm around him. “I got you.”


End file.
